


A Consequential Event

by Roadstergal



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: FTM, Gen, M/M, Transgender, Transsexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-14
Updated: 2011-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A follow-up piece to Kahvi's <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/223194">A Series of Inconsequential Events</a>.  A woman is killed.  A man investigates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Consequential Event

Tea. It was comforting and warm, and exactly what was called for, at this point. It wasn't some strange beverage that looked like coffee and smelled and tasted like coffee, yet was strangely appealing to a man who who didn't care for coffee - then turned around one day and informed John that it had, actually, been tea at one point.

John sipped it, trying not to stare at Sherlock. It shouldn't matter, really, the chromosome count - Sherlock was Sherlock, that hadn't changed. But John's mind insisted on playing tricks, on seeing those lips as more womanly, the angles of his face taking on a different character, those hands subtly altered.

A weak attempt, perhaps, to justify the situation. Strange tugs deep within himself when he thought about Sherlock, brought to the fore when it had been him or me, beside the pool, and John's instinct had shown him how deeply his attachment ran. The sexual stirrings he had dismissed as just... the things that happen, when you share close quarters with another man; John had seen it a time or two in the army, and even participated, when the frustration was particularly unbearable. And that was with someone he didn't have anywhere near the connection he had with Sherlock.

Two Xs should not make a difference, all else being the same, yet his mind wanted to run with the idea of his cock between those expressive lips, taking the little flickers of ideas he had felt before and expanding them to full-on fantasy - as if this inconsequential fact made all the difference. Made any difference at all, really. Sherlock had obviously been a man in mind to start with, and had lived as one for - those scars were old, so a decade, maybe more? His breasts removed, whatever surgical magic they did below these days done. Mentally and physically, Sherlock was a man.

Such meaningless labels. Couldn't he simply be Sherlock? John wished he could be that fair... but he was too old, too set in his ways, too attached to his labels of him and her and gay and straight.

Sherlock stood, abruptly, and walked to his room. John couldn't blame him. Sherlock knew what John was thinking, so often, it seemed, and to have someone yelling such banalities as John's own thoughts in the same room - well, John would want some time away from that, too.

He drank his tea.


End file.
